Bow to me!
by Agent ZephyrRowan MacAllister
Summary: After "Existence" airs, the Almighty Creator God (a.k.a. Chris Carter) gets responses from his worshippers. Yeah I know it sounds stupid, but the fic is better than the summary (I hope). **PART 2 IS UP**
1. Chapter Numero Uno

Title: Bow to me!  
Author: Agent Zephyr  
E-Mail address: zephyr2@internetcds.com  
Rating: PG for mild language  
Category: Story, Humor  
Spoilers: Existence (duh), Millennium  
Keywords: Existence, Chris Carter worship  
Archive: You betcha, just let me know so I can brag  
Disclaimers: Chris Carter is not mine. Neither are the various fan groups or the XF characters. If you sue, you will be getting approximately 98 cents and a bag of sunflower seeds.  
Summary: After "Existence" airs, the Almighty Creator God (a.k.a. Chris Carter) gets responses from his worshippers. Yeah I know it sounds stupid, but the fic is better than the summary (I hope).  
  
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Chris Carter woke up, not knowing what to expect that day. The episode that he considered to be his greatest masterpiece had aired last night. What would the response be? He changed into some long, impressive robes and left his bedchamber to enter the main Temple to the Creator.  
His breakfast was served, as usual, by some of the hundred or so alien hybrids he kept around the place. A little Samantha clone delivered his mail. He smiled, thanking her, and opened the first letter. He only had time to read, "HOW COULD YOU?!" before it exploded in a huge fireball. He ducked just in time to avoid having all of the hairs singed off his head. Damn those noromos, the Creator God thought crossly.  
"Hey! I thought I said I wanted these screened for flames!" he cried. "I am not going around with no eyebrows for a week like I did after the "Millennium" kiss!"  
He quickly handed off the letters to one of the hybrids and stomped off, his appetite ruined. He just couldn't please everybody, he thought. He had chosen to please the shippers, simply because he feared them more. No, he thought, he had pleased them because it was his whim. The whim of a god must be obeyed. But was he a true god? Nobody flames a real god, he thought crossly.  
"Samantha #142," he called. "Send a memo to the writers to add more Mulder/Scully shippiness next season. The noromos must be punished."  
"But how can we, your Holiness, without Mulder on the show?" she asked.  
"I don't know, have Scully talk incessantly about Mulder being a good daddy or something. Just do it!" was the Creator God's response. "And what's my schedule for today?"  
"Not much, Holiness. For most of the day, you're holding an audience in the throne room to hear from the different factions of worshippers. But you do have a brief appearance at the Tomb of the Ratboy in about 15 minutes."  
"I might as well go early," he said. "I have nothing else to do."  
And with that, the Creator God strode briskly out of the temple and over to the Graveyard of Character Casualties.  
For the most part, the graveyard was about the same as it normally was. There were a few flowers on some of the more popular dead characters' graves, such as Deep Throat and Max Fenig, and the usual spit and dog feces upon those of Diana Fowley and Cancer Man. But at the new, shiny Tomb of the Ratboy, there was a huge gathering of wailing fans. The bouquets of flowers almost covered the tomb. Some of the fans threw themselves on it, bawling about their poor little rat. As the Creator God approached, all eyes turned to him. Some looked at him in hate, some in sorrow, and some seemed simply to be silently asking, "Why?"  
The Creator God smiled inwardly. He had been rehearsing what he would do for some time. He stooped down to place a single black rose in front of the statue of a three-legged rat the graced the top of the Tomb.  
"Why did you do it?" someone cried out. The voice was soon joined by many more.  
"It had to be done," Chris Carter said solemnly. "It came down to him or Mulder. Which would you rather see die?"  
"Mulder!" came the unanimous response.  
Time to try a different approach, he thought. "Have you never heard the phrase, 'nobody ever dies on the X-Files?' How do you know it was really Krycek who died?" he asked. "Would Krycek ever try to kill Mulder?"  
The fans looked hopeful. "You mean he's not dead?" one asked.  
"You shall have to watch the show next season to find out," the Creator God replied slyly. He looked around at the hope that shone through the pain on the Krycek fans' faces. "But that is not what I am here today to tell you. I am here today for a very solemn ceremony. As you know, Krycek's arm is kept in that glass coffin over there," he gestured to the left of the tomb, "in the event that we should ever have the opportunity to re-attach it. I think that Krycek should be buried in dignity, with all of his appendages."  
The crowd cheered. Smiling, he led them over to the coffin, summoning two of the hybrids to lift and carry it over to Krycek's tomb. Another hybrid unlocked the door. Krycek's sarcophagus was brought out, and the lid removed. The crowd gasped. There lay their fallen Ratboy. The Creator God carefully removed Krycek's prosthetic arm and replaced it with the real one. He held his hands over the arm. There was a white flash of light, and Krycek was whole again. By now, most of the fans were crying. The sarcophagus was hauled back into the tomb, the door sealed, and the glass arm coffin taken away.  
"What about his prosthetic arm?" one fan asked.  
The Creator God smiled, then tossed the arm out into the crowd. He walked away with a smile as the fans fought over this rather odd souvenier.  
  
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Loved it? Hated it? Think I should be burned at the stake for blasphemy? Let me know!  
  
Part 2 coming as soon as I can write it.  



	2. 2nd part...took me long enough ;)

Title: Bow to me! (2/2)  
Author: Agent Zephyr  
E-Mail address: zephyr2@internetcds.com  
Rating: PG for mild language  
Category: Story, Humor  
Spoilers: Existence (duh), Millennium  
Keywords: Existence, Chris Carter worship  
Archive: You betcha, just let me know so I can brag  
Disclaimers: Chris Carter is not mine. Neither are the various fan groups or the XF characters. If you sue, you will be getting approximately 98 cents and a bag of sunflower seeds.  
Summary: After "Existence" airs, the Almighty Creator God (a.k.a. Chris Carter) gets responses from his worshippers. Yeah I know it sounds stupid, but the fic is better than the summary (I hope). Second part of the story.  
  
Author's note: Thanks to all who reviewed, I love feedback. J You guys are awesome. To the person who asked if I knew CC personally: I wish I did. But if I did I would be too busy trying to get him to introduce me to David Duchovny to write crappy fanfic like this. Oh and I have nothing against noromos, I just thought that they would most likely be pissed off by the ep (not that I got any complaints, but I thought I'd say that). Thanks to shedreamsindigital for the spilled wine cooler idea.  
  
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Chris Carter yawned. All afternoon it had been the same. He sat in the throne room, looking regal and god-like, listening to the Philes who came to tell him what they thought of him. The finishippers were congratulatory. Several noromos had to be dragged off by security guards. The slash faction was slightly sulky, but they still had Doggett and Skinner, so they weren't very upset. All in all, it was a boring job. Oh joy, here comes another, he thought, as a woman came into the room. She looked rather upset, and he found himself wondering if he was in for another noromo lecture.  
  
"Hello daughter," he said in his best god-like voice. "Why have you come here today?"  
  
"I want reimbursement," she said.  
  
"For what do you ask reimbursement, my phile daughter?"  
  
"A wine cooler I spilled in surprise during the final scene. According to my lawyers," she snapped her fingers and several sneaky-looking men in suits appeared behind her, "since you were the indirect cause of the drink's spillage, you are required to pay for it."  
  
The Creator God was shocked. "How much would I owe you if I admitted to guilt?" he asked.  
  
"Approximately 4 dollars and 50 cents, U.S. currency," one of the lawyers said. "Or a wine cooler of equal value, quality, and flavor."  
  
This is insane, the Creator thought. Then he had an idea.  
  
"You're a fanfiction author, aren't you?" he asked her.  
  
"Yes," she said.  
  
"So therefore I can sue you for the use of my characters," he said. "I am quite sure that they are worth much more than a spilled wine cooler."  
  
"You're forgetting disclaimers," she replied smugly.  
  
"Fine," he said exasperatedly. "Samantha #158, take her over to accounting and see that everything is taken care of."  
  
"Yes holiness," the hybrid replied, and led the woman and her pack of lawyers out of the chamber.  
  
He sighed. Some of these Philes were too difficult to manage. He should have just threatened her with a Scully/Frohike marriage or something equally dreaded. That would have forced her into mindless submission again. He was interrupted from his reverie by another hybrid entering the chamber.  
  
"Holiness, the Doubting Shippers have returned. Shall I show them in?" it asked.  
  
The Creator God smiled. This was what he had been waiting for all afternoon. It should be amusing.  
  
"Yes, let them in," he said. "I am merciful."  
  
Slowly and meekly, a huge crowd inched into the room. At the sight of him, most dropped to their knees. All in all, they were a sorry bunch. One of them, who had obviously been elected spokesperson, came forward and began to speak.  
  
"Holy Creator and God, we have come to express our apologies for ever doubting you. We were lost in a sea of confusion. Please forgive us," the unlucky spokesphile said quietly.  
  
The Creator God descended from his throne. He walked down among the repentant shippers, looking sorrowful.  
  
"How could you doubt me? Have I not always been a merciful God? Have I not kept your hope alive with UST, with the kiss?" he asked.  
  
"It only took seven years," someone grumbled.  
  
"Perhaps you are not really ready to return to me," the Creator God said, frowning.  
  
"No!" they all cried at once. Several crawled over and kissed the hem of his robes.  
  
The Creator God laughed on the inside. These X-Philes were too easy to manipulate. On the outside, however, he remained stern.  
  
"We bring sacrifices of sunflower seeds…and iced tea…" the spokesphile said in a pleading tone.  
  
"Are you ready to swear your allegiance to me?" the Creator God asked. "And will you never again doubt me?"  
  
"Yes!" they cried. "Please, take us back!"  
  
The Creator God smiled. "Go now," he said. "Spread the word of the X-Files throughout the world."  
  
The philes murmured their thanks, and exited the temple. The Creator God smiled. Ah, how he loved his power!  
  
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